How’s that for a gripping lead? A few months ago, when Katrina, our director of sales & marketing, came up with the idea of a general manager’s blog I thought it was brilliant. Back then I didn’t realize how hard it would be to come up with new material each week, and to find time to write it. I’m already looking forward to my two-week vacation in September, when I’ll be foisting this job on some unsuspecting colleague. (um, Katrina…?)
Truth is, I didn’t expect anyone to read my posts. But in just a couple of months these pages have been viewed by thousands. I’ve received lots of great comments, and would like to thank those who wrote for your encouraging words.
Interestingly, the only concerns about content came internally, from our LA-based publicists, who feared I had gone too far. What? they cried, you dished the name of the diva who used the F word on you? Eek! What, you admitted that Opus occasionally relocates guests? Double eek! What, you said the word “cleavage”? Triple eek! Their concerns compelled me to go back and soften some of my comments. Ironically, sanitizing my writing made me feel dirty, like I had compromised my artistic integrity. But our publicists are savvy, and they’ve done great things for Opus, so when they cry “Eek!” I listen.
Now, however, I find myself desperate for new content. It’s not that I don’t have a lot to say, the problem is that whenever I come up with an irreverent new idea I hear the publicists crying “Eek!” The pressure to perform within these parameters is daunting. I may have to start making things up.
One fairly innocuous subject I’m considering is chronicling the nine hotels I’ve worked for during my career. Sounds riveting, I know. But there have been interesting moments. For example, in 1996 I accepted, sight unseen, my “dream job” as director of sales & marketing at a resort in Micronesia. Where Micronesia is I’m still not entirely sure. It’s somewhere between Guam and the Philippines, a group of stunningly beautiful islands (pictured above). I signed a two-year contract, gave up my job and my apartment, held a going-away party that rivaled the closing ceremonies of the 2006 Winter Olympics, and got on the plane. It took me 36 hours to get there, and two hours to realize I had made a terrible mistake. A month later I was back in Vancouver, returning everyone’s going-away presents. I’ll explain why in a future post, but suffice it to say that as the plane took off from the island I had my middle finger planted firmly against the passenger window.
In another post I plan to shamelessly plug the mystery novel I wrote, called Murder at The Universe, which will be published in September ’07. It’s about a highly dedicated hotel manager whose universe is turned upside down when his colleagues become suspects in the hit-and-run death of the hotel’s beloved owner. The incident occurs after a boozy staff party, on the eve of the arrival of a militant anti-impaired driving conference. General chaos ensues as values clash among hotel staff, activists, guests and the media. It’s really fun, and I wrote it all by myself. You can pre-order it on Amazon now.
I should add a disclaimer that all characters in my novel – and the hotel itself – are purely fictional. Already I’ve had to reassure the owners of Opus that I came up with the premise long before I met them, and their lives are safe (for now). The great news is that the publisher has offered me a 3-book deal to develop the novel into a series. I won’t be giving up my day job, though, partly because I love it, and partly because I need new material. But mostly because I pretty much spent the advance celebrating a couple weeks ago.
Well, then, I’ve effectively completed this week’s post with mindless blather. I think that now makes me a bona fide blogger.
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